A Vigil Strange
by mione the kneazle
Summary: A fallen warrior. A revered mentor. The reflections of a comrade and friend. Is much better than it sounds.


**Author's Note: I know I should be working on my other stories but this little one-shot bit me in the middle of class today. We were reading Walt Whitman and I was depressed because I didn't want to be in class. Meh. Anywho, I'll stop talking and get on with the writing.**

_**Disclaimer: Since neither Walt Whitman nor J.K. Rowling are twenty-something college students who can barely meet their rent and utilities, I do not own anything.**_

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_Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;  
When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,  
One look I but gave which your dear eyes return'd with a look I shall never forget,  
One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach'd up as you lay on the ground,_

"Harry!" echoed the cries from across the battlefield. The pale young man, just a boy really, collapsed, having finally completed his destiny; a defeated tyrant dead not far from where he lay. A man in bright robes, more spry than his silver hair and long beard would imply, dashed to the side of the fallen young soldier.

"Harry, my boy," whispered Dumbledore as he knelt beside the raven haired warrior. Harry's eyes fluttered and his brilliant green eyes, dulled with pain but now peaceful, regarded his mentor lovingly as he gently squeezed Dumbledore's hand.

_Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,  
Till late in the night reliev'd to the place at last again I made my way,  
Found you in death so cold dear comrade, found your body son of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)  
Bared your face in the starlight, curious the scene, cool blew the moderate night-wind,_

Carefully Dumbledore shielded Harry from the curses still flying around the field. The Order of the Phoenix and Aurors were fighting with the last of the Death Eaters, who were determined to fight to the very last. Pulse and breath slowed as the body of the younger icon of the light failed.

"Albus," rasped Harry as he forced himself to focus for a short period of time, "Albus, I'm dying." "No, my child! I can't −" The black haired boy/man gave a bittersweet smile. "Don't argue with me. I know it's true and you know it's true." He coughed sharply, the last fo the color leaving his porcelain white face to stand out starkly from his dark hair and luminous viridian eyes. "Tell everyone I love them and not to mourn too much." Tears filled the twinkle-less blue eyes and spilled over wrinkled cheeks and into a silver beard.

"I will, my child."

_Long there and then in vigil I stood, dimly around me the battlefield spreading,  
Vigil wondrous and vigil sweet there in the fragrant silent night,  
But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, long, long I gazed,   
Then on the earth partially reclining sat by your side leaning my chin in my hands,_

Dumbledore sat, carefully cradling the body of his son/student/friend until the battle ended and all was silent once more. The false dawn lightened the skies over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, that image bringing to mind the adventures of one messy haired, overly curious child had had within those trees.

_Passing sweet hours, immortal and mystic hours with you dearest comrade - not a tear, not a word,  
Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier,  
As onward silently stars aloft, eastward new ones upward stole,  
Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death,  
I faithfully loved you and cared for you living, I think we shall surely meet again,)_

As he sat guarding the body of the last of his family, Dumbledore remembered the much loved babe, cooed over my his ecstatic parents. The mischievous toddler who giggled happily when his 'uncles' come to visit. An awed young child who entered a stange new magical world. And a powerful young man who was determined to protect his loved ones. And Dumbledore remembered what he once told that child, that death is just the next great adventure, and he was comforted.

_Till at latest lingering of the night, indeed just as the dawn appear'd,  
My comrade I wrapt in his blanket, envelop'd well his form,  
Folded the blanket well, tucking it carefully over head and carefully under feet,  
And there and then and bathed by the rising sun, my son in his grave, in his rude-dug grave I deposited,_

Other approached quietly, realized what had happened, and left on soundless feet. The news of the death of their Savior and friend spread quickly across the field of battle. Then silence fell as Dumbledore stood and carefully lifted the body of their son/brother/friend/comrade-in-arms. He picked his way towards the castle and the crowds parted before Dumbledore as he carried "Harry, just Harry" away.

_Ending my vigil strange with that, vigil of night and battle-field dim,  
Vigil for boy of responding kisses, (never again on earth responding,)  
Vigil for comrade swiftly slain, vigil I never forget, how as day brighten'd,  
I rose from the chill ground and folded my soldier well in his blanket,  
And buried him where he fell._

So Harry was buried in Godric's Hollow next to his parents but a monument was constructed where he fell on the grounds of Hogwarts. And all mourned the passing of a wonderful young man.

_**The End**_

**The poem is Walt Whitman's ****A Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night****. As you can tell, I was definitely just a wee bit angsty. Please leave me a comment about this story! Reviews are almost as good as chocolate.**


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